


I volunteer my soul for murder

by outruntheavalanche



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Captivity, Drabble, F/M, Gen, Not Beta Read, probably out of character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-13
Updated: 2014-10-13
Packaged: 2018-02-21 02:37:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2451560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/outruntheavalanche/pseuds/outruntheavalanche
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Abraham would never let her go, she realized, with sudden, stunning clarity.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	I volunteer my soul for murder

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Black Hearted Love," by P.J. Harvey and John Parish.
> 
> Katrina could have (and should have) been a much better character. Alas, we ended up with Strugglewitch.

The back of Abraham’s— _no, the man who had once been Abraham!_ —cool, corpse-like hand caressed the curve of her bare neck, tracing lightly over her pulse. He ran a razor-sharp fingernail in a straight line across her throat; she could feel him behind her, chest pressing gently against her back. His body vibrated against hers ever so slightly and she realized he was, in his own way, laughing at her. At her predicament. 

Katrina shut her eyes and clenched her hands in fists in her skirts. Her fingernails bit into her palms, sharp enough to draw blood. 

_Oh, Ichabod, bear me away me from this wretched place_. 

Katrina felt fat tears squeeze past her eyelids and roll down her cheeks. Even crying felt like a concession.

The horseman rested dry, brittle fingertips over the juncture of her neck. Suddenly, she felt warm breath against her nape. Katrina unclenched her fist, skirts falling in a whisper of rotten silk, and lifted a hand, tentatively, reaching back until her fingertips met flesh. Abraham’s hand tightened ever so slightly on her neck.

“My love.” His voice was reedy, thin, as if strained from disuse.

Katrina recoiled, trying to twist away from his touch, but Abraham was unrelenting, refusing to loosen his grip on her.

“He will never find you.” Abraham’s voice was like the hiss of a snake, slithering into her brain. “He will never find _us_.”

Katrina stared blankly through a veil of tears and choked back a sob. Her life flashed before her eyes in an instant, a flash of emerald, a sudden burst of red blood, a lick of bright yellow flame. Abraham hummed behind her, as if pleased with the dark turn her thoughts had taken.

Abraham would never let her go, she realized, with sudden, stunning clarity. He’d keep his grip on her long after he was gone.


End file.
